


Fading Light

by aclutteredmind



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 06:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3799918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aclutteredmind/pseuds/aclutteredmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on/ inspired by this poem: www.wittyprofiles.com/q/6786799</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fading Light

“People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for.” -Harper Lee, To Kill A Mockingbird

“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.” -J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

 

The first time I ever saw you was at the bus stop. It was my first day at the new school, I’d just moved here the other week. You were standing there, talking to two of your friends. Even though I couldn’t hear any of what you were saying because my music was drowning out the noise of the world around me, I could see that you were enjoying yourself; joking around, laughing at something one of your friends had said. You and your friends smiled at me when I arrived, I remember how your eyes were full of joy; you were practically glowing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so excited waiting for the school bus. To be honest, I thought that you were beautiful.  
It continued like this for a couple of months, every morning, you’d smile at me and I’d return the favor. Even though we never spoke a single word, I just knew that you were a friendly and open guy. 

By the time summer rolled around, you’d changed somehow. You did smile at me every time we saw each other but something seemed off, your smile was as beautiful as ever but it seemed hollow, forced. It just didn’t reach your eyes anymore. You seemed to be becoming more distant towards your friends. While they’d be joking around, you’d just be standing there, forcing a smile, trying to fool them into thinking that you were just as into it as they were but it wasn’t working; the way you’d zone out sometimes and stare at your feet or into space over your friends’ shoulder gave it away. You’d get lost in your own little world until one of your friends would bring you back, asking if you were ok; worry written all over their faces. You’d just shoot them a smile and say that you were tired. I don’t think they bought it, I didn’t either. 

I grew worried when you started wearing tons of bracelets. It started on your right arm, at first it was only a big leather bracelet that could’ve easily passed for a fashion statement. More bracelets followed, at first it was your right arm, then the left one. After a while, they were replaced by long sleeves ending just above the knuckles of your fingers. You’d always be tugging on them, making sure that they never rode up. Your friends must’ve noticed as well, right? One time, I heard them ask you about it, you played it down, saying that you were simply cold. All of you fell silent the second you noticed me.  
You stopped smiling altogether at some point; you didn’t even acknowledge my presence anymore. Your friends had a difficult time striking up conversations with you, the phrase “I’m tired” had seemingly become synonymous for everything that you seemed to want to say but didn’t. You seemed to have shrunken, your shoulders hanging down as if you were carrying a horrible weight, pressing you down further and further, making you drag your feet, there were bags under your once beautiful, glowing eyes that were now dull and tired. You were staring at your feet more often than not. 

One morning in fall, you failed to show up. The same thing happened the following days. Your friends greeted me with sad but friendly smiles every morning. I never dared to ask what was going on, I felt like that would be way out of line. The following week, you did show up. While it made me happy to see you, I wasn’t relieved because you seemed to have sunken into yourself even more, you seemed to have gotten even smaller. Your sweater was way too big on your small frame; it looked like you were trying to hide in it as much as you could. You weren’t standing by your friends anymore, you were somewhere off to the side with your headphones on, fiddling with the hem of your sleeves and staring at the ground in front of you. Your friends could do nothing but stand there, watching helplessly because you wouldn’t acknowledge them at all.

A week passed and you failed to show up at the bus stop again. So did your friends.  
I was worried and my worry was confirmed the next day when our headmaster told everyone to come into the assembly hall of the school.  
You’d been found in the bathtub in your bathroom, your scarred arms cut open, an empty bottle of pills and three tear stained letters  
written in your scrawly hand-writing lying next to it on Thursday. One was addressed to your parents, the other one was for your friends.  
I was surprised and my heart shattered, the silent tears running down my face mimicking your friends’, when they handed me the third letter  
that you had written just before… 

It was a folded piece of lined paper and it read: 

To the girl from the bus stop  
I see the bracelets lining your arms, how sad you always are;  
the way the smile you shoot me every morning doesn’t reach your eyes and how you seem to be lost in your own little world sometimes,  
how you move like there are weights chained to your ankles.  
Please be strong, I know you can do it even though I couldn’t. Believe me, you’re beautiful.  
Daniel


End file.
